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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25900384">Prospect Heights</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impossibly_Izzy/pseuds/Impossibly_Izzy'>Impossibly_Izzy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Actor Jake, Alternate Universe - Notting Hill Fusion, Bookseller Charles, Celebrities, Eventual Smut, Jake Peralta Has ADHD, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Phone Sex, Romantic Comedy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:01:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25900384</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impossibly_Izzy/pseuds/Impossibly_Izzy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles works at a bookshop in Prospect Heights. Jake is the up-and-coming star of a cop drama. It's a rom com - you know how this is going to go.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charles Boyle/Jake Peralta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>thespiceboys</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Not A Classic Anecdote</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jake Peralta isn’t famous the first time he walks into Curtis Books.</p><p>It’s a Tuesday. The New York summer is sweltering, and the book store’s air conditioning has always been lacklustre. They’ve just got in a box of new releases from Harper Collins, which Charles is trying to cram into the already overstuffed shelves. Amy is behind the counter, staring somewhat vacantly at spreadsheets. They’ve had three customers all morning, only one of whom actually bought a book. Charles’ shirt is sticking to his back.</p><p>The bell dings as the door opens.</p><p>‘Hi!’ Amy says, her customer service voice perky as ever.</p><p>Charles gives up on slotting books into gaps and simply lays them on top of books already on the shelf. He returns to the counter, and begins wrestling the empty cardboard box flat. When he glances up, the customer is looking blankly at a shelf of memoirs. He’s quite pretty – curly-haired, with round glasses and a patchy beard.</p><p>‘Do you need any help?’ Charles says.</p><p>‘Uh,’ the customer says. ‘Do you have any books about… art? But not fancy art, like weird art. Or maybe – dogs? Or women who get divorced and then are happier afterwards?’ He laughs, sharply and suddenly. ‘Look, I’m not much of a bookster. A reading person. I need a gift for my mom.’</p><p>Charles glances at Amy, in case she wants to help the only engaging customer of the day. ‘You go,’ she says. ‘You have the tastes of a mom, anyway.’</p><p>‘Thanks!’ Charles says.</p><p>He talks the customers through some of the books on the tables, the ones the publishers are paying to be more prominent. But once he starts talking, more and more books come to mind. ‘Has she read any Jodie Picoult?’ he says. ‘<em>My Sister’s Keeper</em> is my personal favourite. Ooh, or how about…’ He’s not really listening to what he’s saying, to be honest. Whenever the stranger picks up a book, Charles gets distracted by his hands. They’re somehow both strong and delicate. When he smiles his face is all dimples.</p><p>In the end, the man buys <em>My Sister’s Keeper</em> and <em>Little Fires Everywhere</em>.</p><p>‘Thanks for your help,’ he says, with a massive grin. The doorbell dings again when he leaves.</p><p>That’s the end of it. Charles has these interactions every day, although not as many times as he’d like. The man’s prettiness isn’t even notable: Charles has always been susceptible to beauty.</p><p>‘We’ve made almost fifty dollars this morning.’ Amy sighs. Tightens her ponytail.</p><p>‘Better than nothing!’ Charles says. He doesn’t like how glum she looks.</p><p>‘You can’t run a business on <em>better than nothing</em>.’</p><p>‘I’m sure it will pick up,’ Charles says. ‘Do you want coffee? I think we need coffee.’</p><p>‘Sure,’ Amy says. ‘Might help me finish these accounts.’</p><p>Outside, the sun is waging war on everything below it. Charles has been working here for years, in this little book store on a street full of little, independent shops. He passes the vintage clothes place, the store that somehow gets by selling records and videos, the mattress store that he suspects is a front for something, until he comes to his favourite coffee shop.</p><p>‘Two iced coffees,’ he says to the server. ‘Ooh, and one on the honey and apricot pastries.’</p><p>He’s slightly obsessed with the pastries here. His ex used to tell him to watch his weight, although he was never sure why, and now he takes great delight in eating whatever he wants. The sun glares in his eyes as his steps outside and turns back towards the bookshop. He holds one hand up to shield his eyes, which is tricky when holding a plastic cup of coffee, and –</p><p>‘Fuck!’</p><p>Charles collides with something solid. ‘I am so sorry,’ he says, almost while it’s still happening.</p><p>‘No, <em>I’m</em> sorry –’</p><p>‘I am such a klutz, it’s genetic –’</p><p>‘It’s <em>genetic?</em>’ The man laughs, and only then does Charles fully register that what he walked into is in fact the handsome customer. The lids have come off both coffee cups, and their contents is covering the man’s shirt.</p><p>‘Yes,’ Charles says. ‘My grandfather once knocked over an entire barn trying to get away from a stampeding goat – are you okay? I’m so sorry about your shirt.’</p><p>The man is still laughing. He tugs the wet fabric of the t-shirt away from his skin. ‘I’m fine, it’s the perfect weather for being doused in iced coffee.’</p><p>‘I hope it’s not ruined,’ Charles says.</p><p>‘Wait, how did he knock over the entire barn?’</p><p>‘It had foundational problems,’ Charles says.</p><p>‘It’s fine,’ the man decides. They both look at his shirt, which was pale blue and but now is quite brown. ‘I’m just heading to my mom’s place anyway, I can change there.’</p><p>‘Right. Of course.’</p><p>‘Can I buy you another coffee?’</p><p>‘Oh, no, it was my fault,’ Charles says, like an idiot. Who turns down a coffee from an attractive stranger?</p><p>But that’s the problem. This man is too pretty. The thought of being bought a drink by him, of spending more time together and trying to think of non-weird things to say, is unbearable. Charles just wants this interaction to be over so he can savour the memory of it.</p><p>‘Sure?’</p><p>‘Yeah, I’ve gotta get back to work anyway,’ Charles says. ‘I’m sorry about the – I mean, I hope your mom likes the – I mean, see ya.’</p><p>‘Bye,’ the man says, looking a little confused. Ugh. This is so embarrassing.</p><p>Charles walks back to the bookshop as fast as he can. The air conditioning is something of a relief, even if it does suck.</p><p>‘Where were you?’ Amy says. ‘You didn’t even get coffee.’</p><p>‘I had a meet cute!’ Charles says. The whole debacle is already a story, and therefore funny more than embarrassing. ‘Also, I bought you a pastry.’</p><p>He passes her the paper bag, and she peers inside.</p><p>‘You know I don’t like these,’ she says. ‘You can’t even taste the apricot.’</p><p>So Charles eats the pastry and tells Amy what happened.</p><p>‘See!’ he finishes. ‘A meet cute!’</p><p>‘You spilled coffee on a man who doesn’t like books,’ Amy says. ‘Firstly, that’s not romantic, this isn’t Hollywood. Secondly, how can you even be attracted to him? He said he’s not “a reading person”.’</p><p>‘He’s gorgeous,’ Charles sighs. ‘But I’ll probably never see him again. He’ll always just be that beautiful stranger.’</p><p>Amy rolls her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>The day drags on. It gets even hotter. The takings are just over a hundred dollars. When Charles walks into his apartment, his roommate is screaming. This is pretty standard Tuesday night behaviour for him.</p><p>‘Hey, Adrian!’ Charles yells.</p><p>The screaming stops. Adrian wanders out of his bedroom wearing underwear and one sock. His hair looks like he’s been plugged into an electric socket – also standard. ‘Oh, hey Chuck! I was just doing some yoga if you want to join.’</p><p>Charles rubs a hand across his face. ‘I’m good. Maybe keep the screaming down?’</p><p>‘I’ll try,’ Adrian says. ‘But it’s a real intense yoga session.’</p><p>He disappears, and Charles is grateful. Adrian is A Lot, and Charles just doesn’t have that kind of energy right now. He takes some leftover goat stew from the fridge, heats it up, and flops onto the couch. The apartment is tiny, and the air con isn’t too great here, either.</p><p>Charles turns on the TV with one hand, already loading his fork with the other. He’s more of a reader, obviously, but right now that’s another thing he’s too tired for.</p><p>‘…job is eating me alive,’ says a voice on TV. A very familiar voice.</p><p>Charles looks up. On the screen is his handsome stranger. He’s clean-shaven and without glasses, which gives him a shiny appearance like freshy polished silver. He’s wearing a sharp grey suit, his curls perfectly styled. The show cuts to a close-up, the man’s face blown up in high definition on the screen.</p><p>Huh.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Very Busy and Important</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <em>The Golden Child: the new gold standard for cop dramas</em>
  </strong>
</p><p><em>If you haven’t been keeping up with HBO’s </em>The Golden Child, <em>I honestly don’t know what you’ve been doing with your time.</em></p><p>
  <em>The series stars the previously unknown Jake Peralta as Detective Carl Mangersen, locked in a battle of wills with a car thief (Doug Judy). Peralta absolutely nails Mangersen’s hot-blooded nature and dark humour, and his chemistry with Judy is so good that at times it feels more like a buddy cop movie than a gritty drama. However, the plot is so twisty and tightly-woven that after only four episodes, the stakes feel incredibly high. Sophia Perez co-stars as Mangersen’s partner and love interest, and brings life to what could be a cliché and uninteresting role in the hands of a less talented actor.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The Golden Child is action-packed, ratcheting up the tension from its first scenes. However, it is set apart from the police drama pack by its heart and genuine wit. I for one cannot wait to see how this plays out, both in terms of the show itself as well as what will surely be an illustrious career for Peralta.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Jake’s agent-slash-childhood-friend calls him the morning after <em>The Golden Child</em>’s fifth episode airs.</p><p>‘Girl, you are on fire right now,’ is how she greets him.</p><p>‘I know, right!’ Jake says. Sleeping on his mom’s couch has left him stiff and aching – not in a good way. He rolls his shoulders. ‘Did you see Obama tweeted about the show?’</p><p>‘Jake, everyone tweeted about the show. Your name is literally trending right now.’</p><p>‘Cool!’ Jake says. ‘Did you take a screenshot?’</p><p>Apparently Gina is only half-listening. ‘We need to renegotiate your contract right the fuck now,’ she says. ‘If they want you back for another season, they’ve gotta pay you the big bucks.’</p><p>‘They’re already paying me a lot,’ Jake says. Way more than any acting gig he’s had before, that’s for sure. This time last year he was waiting tables at dinner on Sunset that catered exclusively to tourists.</p><p>‘Bitch, that’s nothing,’ Gina says. ‘You could get a huge raise. And, more importantly, you could give <em>me</em> a huge raise.’</p><p>‘Okay,’ Jake says. ‘Yeah, we can talk to them.’</p><p>‘I’ve got you booked on all the talk shows,’ Gina continues.</p><p>‘Noice, which ones?’</p><p>‘<em>All of them</em>,’ she repeats. ‘Dude, this is your big break and I need you to take it seriously. You need to get your ass back to LA, asap.’</p><p>‘Totally,’ Jake says. ‘I’ve just got a couple of things to do here first.’</p><p>‘I’m gonna book you a flight.’</p><p>‘Seriously,’ he says. ‘I need at least another day.’</p><p>‘Fine,’ Gina says, and just as he thinks she’s going to hang up she adds, ‘Say hi to Karen from me.’</p><p>Jake grins. ‘I will. Bye, Gina.’</p><p>His mom walks into the kitchen and starts making coffee. ‘Was that Gina? How is she?’</p><p>‘Y’know, the same,’ Jake says. ‘She says hi. Also I have to go back to LA tomorrow.’</p><p>‘I barely get to see you anymore,’ Karen says. ‘Do you want coffee? I still have your favourite mug.’</p><p>‘Thanks,’ Jake says. He leans against the kitchen counter and tries not to rub the stiffness in his neck. He’s not mad about being back in his own bed tomorrow night. ‘You should come visit me.’</p><p>His mum pours milk into the coffee, lips pursed.</p><p>‘I can pay for your flights,’ Jake adds. ‘Gina’s getting me a massive pay rise, apparently.’</p><p>‘That’s very sweet of you to offer.’ She passes him his mug – it says <em>I need energy for fighting bad guys</em> on it, in Comic Sans which Jake knows is ugly but is easier for his weird brain to read for some reason. It was a present from his dad a thousand years ago.</p><p>‘Think about it,’ he says.</p><p> </p><p>The second time Jake Peralta walks into Curtis Books, he’s a little more famous than the first. That’s how it’s going at the moment: each new episode, each review, each celebrity tweet is another step down the path.</p><p>Curtis Books is small enough that it might go unnoticed if you weren’t looking for it. A single window packed with books, a sun-bleached sign. Inside it’s cramped and untidy but somehow comforting, even to someone like Jake who hasn’t read a book in years.</p><p>The cute bookseller is there, just like Jake hoped. He’s sitting behind the counter, reading a paperback with a yellow cover. When he sees Jake he tries to put a bookmark in, fumbles, and drops the whole thing.</p><p>‘I told you,’ he says, scrambling to pick it up. ‘Genetic clumsiness.’ He sets the book on the counter: <em>Girl, Woman, Other</em>.</p><p>‘Is it good?’ Jake says.</p><p>‘Amazing, one hundred percent deserved the Booker.’</p><p>He’s so cute. A few years older than Jake, hair smooth and neatly parted. Fantastic eyebrows.</p><p>‘Ah, yeah, coolcoolcoolcool.’ Jake is out of his depth, and definitely about to ruin any chance he has with this man. ‘The Booker prize, the prize of all the books, that’s probably why it’s called that.’</p><p>‘Probably!’ the man says, definitely humouring him.</p><p>‘I know you said it was cool,’ Jake says, before he can lose his nerve. ‘But after yesterday, I feel like I should buy you a coffee. Or a drink? Or – whatever you want, really.’ He hopes it comes off as cool rather than desperate. He hopes it comes off as thoughtful and/or sexy, rather than slightly creepy.</p><p>‘Sure, a drink would be great!’ The guy looks genuinely happy about it.</p><p>‘I’m Jake, by the way.’</p><p>‘I know,’ the man says. ‘I saw you on TV.’</p><p>Jake grins. ‘Oh yeah? What did you think?’</p><p>‘I like you better with glasses,’ the man says, and Jake laughs.</p><p>‘Yeah, I think I do too?’</p><p>‘I’m Charles.’ Of course he is. That’s got to be the name of every single guy who wears beige shirts and works in a bookshop. ‘I’m not just coming because you’re on TV,’ he adds. ‘I’m not gonna drill you for information or anything.’</p><p>Jake resists the urge to say, <em>I wish you </em>would<em> drill me</em>. He’s pretty sure it wouldn't sound that sexy. He’s not even sure it makes sense. ‘People do that?’</p><p>‘I don’t know, <em>I’m</em> not famous.’</p><p>‘Neither am I,’ Jake says, but his name’s trending on twitter.</p><p>It’s hard to get his head around. His IMBD page is four lines long, and he’s pretty sure Gina wrote it. Last year, on the way to his audition for <em>The Golden Child</em>, his ancient Toyota rattling down an LA freeway, he wondered if it was ridiculous to keep chasing this dream. He was auditioning for a side character – a CSI guy who shows up mostly to deliver pithy one-liners. (Jake <em>loves</em> pithy one-liners). They called him back in to read for the lead role.</p><p>‘Tonight?’ he says.</p><p>‘Perfect. I get off at five thirty.’</p><p>God, he is giving Jake so many opportunities for jokes. Keep it together, Peralta, you don’t even know if he’s single, if he likes guys.</p><p>‘I’ll meet you here,’ Jake says. ‘See you tonight, Charles.’</p><p> </p><p>Jake spends the afternoon helping his mom glaze pottery and listening to her talk about the dates she’s been on. All of her pots stand at an angle, but apparently that’s on purpose.</p><p>‘What’s going to happen on the show?’ she says.</p><p>‘I can't tell you,’ Jake said. All the actors had to sign an NDA – the writers are serious about their plot twists. He clasps a pot with the tongs, dunks it into chalky glaze.</p><p>‘I worry about Carl,’ Karen says. ‘He seems like he’d be nice if he didn’t let the power go to his head.’</p><p>Jake watches glaze run off the pot and drip back into the vat. He gives it a shake, and sets it on a wire drying rack. ‘Yup,’ he says. ‘That’s pretty much the show.’</p><p> </p><p>He arrives at Curtis Books just as Charles is locking up.</p><p>‘Hey!’ Charles says. He shoves the keys into the pocket of his slacks. (They shouldn’t be sexy, but somehow they are. Jake wants to thoroughly document his thighs). ‘Where do you wanna go?’</p><p>‘Honestly, I have no idea,’ Jake says. He hasn’t spent much time in Brooklyn since he’s been old enough to drink.</p><p>‘I know somewhere,’ Charles says, and they start off up the street.</p><p>‘So,’ Jake says. ‘How did you become a books-selling guy?’</p><p>‘It was Amy’s idea,’ Charles says. ‘You met her yesterday.’</p><p>He lays out the story: the two of them working towards degrees in subjects they couldn’t or didn’t want to get a job in. ‘<em>Sociology</em>,’ Charles says. ‘Who let me pick that major?’ An idea: nothing that would get them rich or famous, but something that might be enough to get by, and more importantly something they would love.</p><p>‘I blew inheritance from multiple grandparents on buying the shop,’ Charles says. ‘And it’s still just about going.’</p><p>He takes Jake to a big warehouse-type building housing several pop-up bars, food places, and some random art. Karen’s pots would look right at home here.</p><p>‘So why <em>did</em> you study sociology?’ Jake says as they queue up at a bar. ‘Follow up question: what is sociology?’</p><p>‘It’s the study of people,’ Charles says. ‘And also...things.’</p><p>‘Ah, coolcoolcool.’</p><p>‘Honestly, I wanted to study creative writing but I didn’t know if I was good enough. I took a couple of electives, but…’ He trails off. ‘Anyway, I picked my major when I was seventeen. I didn’t know what I was doing.’</p><p>Jake likes this image of Charles. A lost college student, pursuing his dreams even when he didn’t know what they were. It’s whimsical, like something out of a Wes Anderson movie or a 90s romcom. They buy beers and find seats at a high metal table.</p><p>‘What about you?’ Charles says.</p><p>‘Y’know, the usual,’ Jake says. ‘Theatre kid. Studied acting. Moved to LA with no money at all.’</p><p>It sounds pretty cool when he says it like that. But only because they know he got something out of it – a series, a leading role, some good reviews. Last year, the story just sounded depressing.</p><p>‘Have you been in plays?’ Charles says.</p><p>‘Yep! Some Shakespeare, but not willingly. Ooh, one time I was in the world’s worst unlicensed production of <em>Book of Mormon</em>.’</p><p>‘Who were you?’ Charles says.</p><p>‘Kevin.’</p><p>‘Oh my god,’ Charles says. ‘Of course you were. I <em>love</em> that show.’</p><p>‘I’ve always been more of a TV person,’ Jake says. ‘And movies. Not really a theatre fan. And my singing isn’t the best.’</p><p>‘And you’re not a book person either?’</p><p>‘Yeah, I’ve read maybe fifteen books, ever.’ Charles looks sceptical, so Jake adds, ‘I’m dyslexic and ADHD so it’s not, like, the easiest.’</p><p>‘Oh,’ Charles says. ‘I’m so sorry for judging you. I mean, in my head I was judging you a bit. I’m sorry.’</p><p>‘It’s cool,’ Jake says. ‘Obviously books are kind of your thing.’</p><p>‘What about audiobooks?’ Charles says. ‘That might be easier for you – I mean, more accessible.’</p><p>Jake picks at the label on his beer. ‘I downloaded an app,’ he says. ‘I have a lot of time on planes and in cars and whatever – I mean, I live in LA, just going to the grocery store is a whole thing. But I didn’t really know what to read. I don’t even know <em>how</em> to know what to read. I’ve basically only read kids’ books.’</p><p>‘I could give you some recommendations!’ Charles says.</p><p>‘That would be great, actually.’</p><p>‘There’s nothing like a book,’ Charles says. ‘How else can you get right inside of another person?’</p><p>‘I can think of a couple of ways,’ Jake says.</p><p>Charles raises his eyebrows. ‘Oh.’</p><p>‘<em>Like</em>…’ Jake smirks. ‘What about acting? I’ve been inside loads of people.’</p><p>‘What’s it like being inside Carl?’ Charles says, like he’s genuinely interested.</p><p>‘Awesome,’ Jake says. ‘He’s such a smart, baddass dude. But also, kind of scary. Like, you know in episode three when he gets in that fight? It feels like he could just keep going and beat the crap out of that guy. And even though it’s just acting it almost made me feel genuinely out of control, you know?’</p><p>‘That sounds intense,’ Charles says. ‘The only acting I’ve every done was my high school production of <em>Annie</em>.’</p><p>Jake laughs, and then says, ‘Okay, what’s your favourite book?’</p><p>‘The Babysitters Club,’ Charles says, immediately. ‘Because of my deep-seated desire to be a preteen girl starting a small business.’ He’s so weird; Jake loves it. ‘What’s your favourite movie?’</p><p>‘<em>Die Hard!</em>’ Jake says. ‘I’ve always wanted to be in something that dope.’</p><p>‘It’s pretty cool,’ Charles concedes.</p><p>‘What’s <em>your</em> favourite movie?’</p><p>‘<em>Lady and the Tramp</em>,’ Charles says. ‘It’s got romance, it’s got dogs, and it’s got spaghetti. What more do you want?’</p><p>‘<em>Guns</em>,’ Jake says. ‘Also, dudes single-handedly taking down terrorists. Also, hot girls with big perms.’</p><p>Charles raises his eyebrows. ‘Is that your type?’</p><p>‘I have a lot of types,’ Jake says. ‘I’m pretty flexible.’</p><p>‘Are we on a date?’ Charles says, like he can’t hold the words back any longer. He cringes, his cheeks flushing pink. ‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘People always – sometimes I say things without thinking. It’s fine if it’s not a date.’</p><p>Jake likes his honesty, likes how upfront he is. How often has someone in Jake’s life just stepped up and asked how he wants their relationship to be?</p><p>‘I’d like it to be a date,’ he says. ‘If you’re down.’</p><p>‘I’m down,’ Charles says.</p><p>(Imagine if his dad was like that. ‘Jake, I’m leaving your mom and I don’t care about you that much. I’ll see you for every third Passover and one birthday, ever.’)</p><p>‘I was worried you were gonna be married or something,’ Jake admits.</p><p>‘I’m divorced, actually.’ Charles’ eyebrows are all over the place when he talks.</p><p>‘What happened?’ Jake says, and only then considers that it might be rude.</p><p>If it is, Charles doesn’t seem to mind. ‘I wanted kids and she didn’t,’ he says, and then, ‘No, that sounds so simple. It was – we were just going in different directions.’</p><p>Then someone starts screaming.</p><p>Jake looks up. There’s a young woman staring at him, screaming. <em>What’s wrong?</em> He almost says. <em>What did I do?</em> And then her friend holds up her cell phone and starts snapping pictures. Of Jake. And Charles – oh fuck.</p><p>He’s out of his seat in a second, grabbing Charles by the wrist. (Oh god, Charles’ hot skin – they’re so close to holding hands.) He drags him through the busy bar, pushing past people. More heads are turning, more phones are raised.</p><p>‘Oh, it’s that guy,’ someone says.</p><p>They get outside. It’s dark,and has finally cooled down. ‘Fuck me,’ Jake says, which is definitely not how he hoped he’d be saying it to Charles.</p><p>‘Are you okay?’ Charles says.</p><p>Jake’s hands are trembling as he pulls out his phone. ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Just – that’s never happened before.’</p><p>It was cool, right? Those people weren’t hurting him, they were just excited. That’s great. Coolcoolcoolcoolcool.</p><p><strong>Gina</strong>: Your flight is at 11</p><p><strong>Gina</strong>: And you’ve got a talkshow at 8</p><p>Jake’s brain is trying to juggle a lot of balls right now, and dropping most of them.</p><p>‘I think I’d better head home,’ Charles says. ‘I’m working again tomorrow.’</p><p>There goes another ball.</p><p>‘Wait, no, I’m sorry!’ Jake says. ‘We can go somewhere else – or, or, just walk around. Or I was gonna invite you back to my – wait, I’m sleeping on my mom’s couch, how would that work? Was I just assuming you’d want to –? Crap.’</p><p>They’ve barely had a chance to talk. Jake has a thousand follow-up questions he wants to ask.</p><p>‘I’ve gotta go,’ Charles says. ‘Sorry.’ And he walks away.</p><p>Jake is an idiot. But also: his first talk show tomorrow! A flicker of excitement burns in his chest. At least he’s an idiot that’s going places.</p><p><strong>Jake</strong>: which one???</p><p><strong>Gina</strong>: Conan</p><p> </p><p>Jake’s alarm goes off in the middle of the night and he rolls off the couch. When he grabs his phone he sees that it’s not actually the middle of the night, it’s seven in the morning. Still way too early to be awake, but he has shit to do.</p><p>‘Come visit me,’ he says to his mom once again over breakfast. ‘Seriously.’</p><p>‘I’ll see what I can do,’ she says.</p><p>Jake will be back in New York at some point anyway, so he doesn’t push it. He clears up, throws his dirty clothes into his backpack, slings headphones around his neck and sneakers onto his feet. He gets to Curtis books at eight thirty, and only then realises that they don’t open until nine. The door is locked, the windows dark.</p><p>Jake is crap at waiting for things. He paces, he looks at his phone, he calculates the minutes until his flight. He thinks up cool things to say on Conan tonight. <em>I basically just fell into this role – sauntered into it – jumped out of a chopper and parachuted into it – metaphorically – wait, no, a plane, I know stuff. </em>He remembers the woman who screamed when she locked eyes on him. Remembers the cell phones, the photos that will be all over twitter by now. He hopes nobody got a clear shot of Charles’ face. Is Charles out publicly? Is Charles on social media? There’s a lot of things he should have asked before he took Charles on such a public date.</p><p>At ten to nine, Charles shows up.</p><p>‘Jake!’ he says. ‘I thought – I didn’t know if I’d see you again.’</p><p>‘I have to leave in like, five seconds,’ Jake says. ‘I’ve got a flight to catch.’ And before that security, and before that the terminal, and before that the subway. He’ll run if he has to.</p><p>Charles unlocks the door and they both step into the dusty warmth of the bookshop. An alarm beeps somewhere, and Charles disappears behind the counter.</p><p>‘I’m sorry if it freaked you out yesterday,’ Jake says. ‘But I had a really good time, before. Talking to you.’</p><p>Charles re-emerges. ‘It’s fine,’ he says, but he’s frowning, dark eyebrows folding inwards.</p><p>Jake checks the time – he’s pushing it, but he absolutely cannot leave it like this.</p><p>‘I’ll be back in New York soon, probably,’ he says. ‘I’ve got all these talk shows to do. Can I see you again?’</p><p>Charles lets out a huff of breath that isn’t quite a sigh. ‘Yes. Okay.’</p><p>And then it occurs to Jake that he doesn’t need to run for the subway: he can get a cab. He can afford that kind of thing now. And he can afford a couple more minutes with Charles.</p><p>‘Do you have any book recommendations?’ Jake says. ‘For the flight?’</p><p>Charles’ expression softens. ‘Sure.’ He grabs a scrap of paper, jots some things down.</p><p>‘Thank you,’ Jake says. He folds the paper carefully, slips it into his pocket. ‘I’ll see you around.’</p><p>‘Bye,’ Charles says. ‘And thank you. For everything.’</p><p> </p><p>Jake sits in the back of the taxi, trying not to watch the meter ticking up. He takes out the piece of paper Charles gave him. The writing is neat, rounded, surprisingly not too bad to read. There’s a list of titles and authors and, at the bottom, a phone number.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Something For Everyone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Here are the fundamental facts of Charles’ life: he is broke, he wears variations on the same outfit every day, he spends too much money on food, his hair is going grey far too early, and famous actors do not want to date him.</p><p>He stays up late to watch Jake on Conan, because he’s pathetic and has no self-control.</p><p>‘That guy rocks,’ Adrian says, walking from the kitchen to his room eating instant noodles out of the pot with a spork. ‘Did you see him beat up that guy in the last episode?’</p><p>‘I don’t really watch it,’ Charles says.</p><p>‘Ha! Lame.’</p><p>Charles hasn’t dated much since he and Eleanor separated. He fell in love with his hairdresser, but it didn’t go anywhere, and then he had to find a different hairdresser. Amy keeps suggesting he try dating apps and singles’ evenings, but that’s how she got stuck with Teddy, so Charles isn’t particularly inclined to listen to her. He doesn’t want a nice enough partner who brews their own pilsners, he wants… a lot of things. Too many things.</p><p>‘This is your first big role, right?’ Conan says, on the TV.</p><p>‘Yeah,’ Jake says. ‘My last job was as a tree in a production of Cinderella.’ The audience loves that, and Jake looks out at them and says, ‘It’s true!’ and grins his massive goofy grin. ‘Stop laughing! It’s a sensitive subject for me.’</p><p>It’s hard to believe that this man in his sharp blue suit, cracking jokes for the studio audience, took Charles on a date yesterday. It’s hard to square Jake Peralta, star of The Golden Child, with Jake the handsome customer. Although all those people, the ones screaming and taking photos, obviously didn’t have that problem.</p><p>Ugh. That’s one of those memories Charles’ brain is going to be pulling out on sleepless nights for years to come. It’s worse than the time he called Eleanor ‘mommy’.</p><p>It shouldn’t be this mortifying, but all he can think about is those people looking at him, knowing that he is not the kind of person famous actor’s take out for drinks. And Jake, dragging him outside, probably thinking the same thing.</p><p>Jake is way too pretty. How is that <em>allowed?</em></p><p>Charles falls asleep on the couch, and wakes up to Adrian yelling in the next room. He rolls off the couch, gets to his feet, rubs at a knot in his neck. Grabs his phone from where it ended up wedged between the cushions, and sees the new messages on the screen.</p><p><strong>Jake</strong>: I just finished the time travellers wife</p><p><strong>Jake</strong>: why did you make me read this book?? It ruined my life and I hate you</p><p>There’s a warm, tingly sensation that starts in Charles’ skin before settling in his stomach. Jake <em>texted</em> him. Jake read one of the books he recommended, and then went on Conan, and then texted him. Charles is already swiping through to reply.</p><p><strong>Charles</strong>: Right!?</p><p>Another message comes through almost immediately.</p><p><strong>Jake</strong>: when I was on the plane the old lady in the next seat kept staring</p><p><strong>Jake</strong>: bc i was CRYING</p><p><strong>Jake</strong>: Charles I’m supposed to be this baddass tough guy</p><p><strong>Charles</strong>: I knew you’d like it</p><p><strong>Jake</strong>: Ok but because I read it you have to watch a movie now</p><p><strong>Jake</strong>: 1917</p><p><strong>Jake</strong>: tell me what you think!!</p><p> </p><p>This is what Charles’ life looks like: he wakes up early, mostly to an alarm but sometimes to Adrian screaming or knocking a bookcase over. He eats soy bacon or quail eggs or, when he can’t afford those things – which is most of the time – oatmeal. He dresses in his customary shades of brown and blue. He smooths his hair into place with mousse. He’s at the bookshop by nine: sometimes Amy’s there, sometimes she isn’t. When she is there she does accounts or emails publishers or tries to get authors in for signings, and Charles sits behind the counter reading until he’s needed. He goes home, makes something to eat, falls asleep. It’s the same routine he’s had for years.</p><p>Alternately, this is what Charles’ life looks like: Jake texts him. Jake complains about the diets they put him on, the post-workout protein shakes he’s supposed to drink. Jake rambles about movies, about the books he’s reading. Jake talks about the show, about the reviews and the tweets.</p><p>Charles feels like he’s walking around with a secret, burning hot against his chest. He doesn’t tell anyone – if he does, he’ll be the guy who’s texting Jake Peralta, the actor. By keeping it to himself Jake remains just Jake, the handsome man who saw Charles embarrass himself and asked him out anyway, who saw Charles run away and came back anyway, who likes him, who likes him. Jake with the curly hair and veined hands. Jake!</p><p>‘What are you smiling at?’ Amy says.</p><p>Charles hadn’t realised he was. ‘Nothing.’</p><p>He watches the action movies Jake recommends. He quite likes <em>1917</em>, and he hates <em>Transformers</em>. It doesn’t matter though, it’s not <em>about</em> whether he likes the movie, it’s about sharing something with Jake. He tells Jake which book off the list to read next – <em>Nothing Lasts Forever</em> by Roderick Thorp – and giggles to himself as he sends the message.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Jake</strong>: CHARLES</p><p><strong>Jake</strong>: THIS IS DIE HARD</p><p><strong>Jake</strong>: WHY IS DIE HARD A BOOK</p><p><strong>Charles</strong>: Die Hard is an adaptation!</p><p><strong>Jake</strong>: NO ITS NOT</p><p><strong>Jake</strong>: THIS OLD MAN ISNT JOHN MCLANE</p><p><strong>Jake</strong>: But also he is?? Why is he saving his daughter rather than the hot wife? How is he doing all this shit when he’s so old??</p><p><strong>Charles</strong>: A lot of mature people are very limber</p><p><strong>Charles</strong>: Trust me</p><p><strong>Jake</strong>: ?????????</p><p><strong>Jake</strong>: CHARLES</p><p><strong>Jake</strong>: Don’t disappear you have to tell me wtf that means</p><p> </p><p>They’ve settled into a routine of their own. And then Jake comes back.</p><p>It’s the day before The Golden Child’s season finale airs, and the internet is exploding, apparently. Charles even saw an actual news article about it. Everyone’s arguing about whether Carl Mangersen is going to heroically thwart the corrupt cocaine-dealing Lieutenant Hawkins, or whether he’s going to give in and join her.</p><p>Also. Also. There are rumours that Jake is dating Sophia Perez. Charles read a <em>Cosmo</em> article about it, complete with twitter screenshots and photos of the two of them out for lunch. He’s been trying to catch up on the show, but it’s hard watching them make eyes at each other over paperwork and dead bodies. Charles wouldn’t have thought crime scenes were so sexually charged, but there you go.</p><p>Jake walks into Curtis Books, famous. Clean-shaven. Wearing sunglasses.</p><p>‘Hey,’ he says, and walks right into a stack of books that Charles is supposed to be shelving. ‘Oh god, I’m sorry. Damn, that looked so cool until I –’</p><p>‘It’s fine,’ Charles says, scrambling to pick up books and hastily unfold tops of pages. ‘I should have –’</p><p>‘Is that damaged?’</p><p>‘Don’t worry about it.’</p><p>Finally they both straighten up and get a good look at each other.</p><p>‘I read <em>Room</em> on the way over,’ Jake says. ‘Oh my god. Like, <em>damn</em>.’</p><p>That feeling is back, heating up every inch of Charles’ skin. ‘I’m so glad you’re enjoying these books,’ he says, which doesn’t even come close to what he’s feeling.</p><p> Jake takes his sunglasses off, grinning. ‘Will you come out with me tonight?’ he says. ‘We could get drinks, or food, or – whatever you want to do. Go dancing? Throw axes?’</p><p>‘I’d love to,’ Charles says. ‘Maybe not the axes. I’m terrible at throwing.’</p><p>‘That’s not true. I seem to remember you throwing your coffee all over me expertly.’</p><p>They both crack up, and then Charles remembers. ‘Oh, I have to – it’s Amy’s birthday. I’m supposed to be cooking.’</p><p>Jake grins. ‘Can I come?’</p><p>‘You want to be my date to Amy’s birthday party?’ Charles says.</p><p>‘You can say no.’</p><p>‘No, I want you to come,’ Charles says. ‘I just can’t imagine you and my other friends all in the same place.’</p><p>‘What are you cooking?’</p><p>‘Pasta and pesto from scratch!’ Charles says. ‘And chocolate fondants.’</p><p>‘I’ve <em>gotta</em> try that.’</p><p>‘I wanted to make tripe, but everyone said that was gross,’ Charles says. ‘Or octopus. I’ve been dying for an excuse to do octopus.’ But in fairness, tripe and octopus are expensive. Flour and eggs and basil not so much. He splashed out on some nice pecorino with the money everyone chipped in, and buying it was the highlight of his week before Jake showed up.</p><p>‘I’ve gotta go do an interview,’ Jake says. ‘But I’ll be back later.’</p><p>‘Meet here at seven?’</p><p>Jake gives a thumbs-up and a gorgeous, unbearable grin.</p><p> </p><p>It’s ten past seven by the time Jake arrives.</p><p>‘I brought wine!’ he says, a little breathless, holding the bottle up as proof.</p><p>‘You brought <em>good</em> wine.’ Charles shows him his own bottle. ‘This stuff cost eight dollars.’</p><p>‘Yeah, well, I want to make a good impression on your friends.’</p><p>‘You make a good impression on everyone,’ Charles says.</p><p>They gather up his carrier bags of food and step out onto the street. It’s quiet this time of night, the bars not flooded yet.</p><p>‘I don’t, really,’ Jake says.</p><p>‘What?’</p><p>‘I don’t make a good impression on everyone.’ Jake is walking with his eyes on the sky and its meagre scattering of stars. ‘I know I seem like this handsome, successful, rich, handsome dude, but… did I mention handsome?’</p><p>‘You don’t have to tell me you’re handsome,’ Charles says.</p><p>‘I used to work at Sal’s Pizza on 6<sup>th</sup> Avenue,’ Jake continues. ‘And I loved it, but Sal couldn’t afford to pay me more than minimum wage. When I moved to LA I figured it would be easy to get a job like that if I needed some extra money, and it <em>was</em> but the job was crap. Customers would harass the women I worked with right in front of me and if I said anything the manager would threaten to fire me and... I don’t know where I was going with this story.’</p><p>‘I’m not going to forget you’re a real person,’ Charles says, softly. ‘I know you are. That’s why I like you.’</p><p>Jake is quiet for a moment, and Charles has definitely overstepped, and Jake definitely thinks he’s weird and is probably going to run away again. Charles wants to ask about Sophia Perez and the rumours and the flirty tweets, but he shouldn’t lay out his cards like that. Although maybe he already has.</p><p>‘Tell me about your friends,’ Jake says.</p><p>‘Amy you know about,’ Charles says. ‘Uh, Rosa’s from college. I used to have a crush on her but I don’t anymore, it’s fine now. Raymond and Kevin – they’re Amy’s friends, really, I’m not even sure they like me. Debbie – she worked for us for a while when she was at college but we couldn’t really afford to pay her.’</p><p>‘Noice,’ Jake says. ‘Coolcoolcoolcool.’</p><p>‘Are you dating Sophia Perez?’ Charles says, because he’s useless.</p><p>‘Where did you hear that?’</p><p>‘On the internet. Everyone’s speculating.’</p><p>‘That is so <em>weird</em>,’ Jake says, which isn’t an answer, but Charles doesn’t press him.</p><p>‘Just up here,’ he says, and they turn up a side street.</p><p>He rings the bell for Amy’s apartment and they get buzzed up. Amy’s place is tiny, but she has it to herself and because of that Charles has always coveted it. She opens the door in a red dress with a not insignificant amount of flour dusted across it.</p><p>‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ she says. ‘I tried to make canapes and it was a disaster.’</p><p>‘Oh, <em>Amy</em>,’ Charles says. ‘What did I tell you about cooking?’</p><p>‘A lot of things! I couldn’t remember if I needed baking powder or baking soda so I added both and –’</p><p>‘Okay,’ Charles says. ‘Okay. We brought some wine.’</p><p>‘Hey!’ Jake holds up his bottle. ‘I’m Jake!’</p><p>‘Nice to meet you.’ Amy pushes her hair out of her face, stepping back to let them into the living room where their friends are gathered.</p><p>‘Oh my god,’ Debbie says, wide-eyed. ‘You’re Jake Peralta.’ She steps forwards, beaming. ‘I am – oh my god, I love you. I mean, I love your show. Can I take a photo with you?’</p><p>Jake laughs. ‘Sure.’</p><p>Debbie squeals and pulls out her phone. The others are staring – Amy puzzled, Raymond and Kevin sceptical, Rosa entirely unreadable. Charles can’t watch Jake and Debbie taking selfies together, so he slides past into Amy’s tiny kitchen. He puts his terrible wine in the fridge, unloads pasta dough and chocolate and parmesan from his shopping bag. This apartment is too small to have worlds colliding in it.</p><p>His quiet only lasts a moment, before the others are flooding in, opening Jake’s wine, putting on music.</p><p>‘I’m so glad you guys are here,’ Amy says. ‘I should have more parties.’</p><p>‘This isn’t a party,’ Rosa says. ‘Nerd.’</p><p>‘It is! It’s a social gathering of friends, that’s a party. We’re listening to music!’</p><p>‘Classical music.’</p><p>‘I didn’t want you to make fun of my music taste,’ Amy admits.</p><p>‘Well, that backfired.’</p><p>‘I enjoy Vivaldi,’ Raymond says. ‘It certainly puts me in the mood to… get lit.’</p><p>Charles laughs as he kneads the dough, threads it between the rollers of his pasta machine.</p><p>‘Oh, am I gonna see Raymond get lit?’ Jake says.</p><p>‘Oh yeah,’ Amy says. ‘All it takes is a few glasses of wine and he’ll be monologuing about John Wilmot.’</p><p>‘That has happened <em>once</em>,’ Raymond protests.</p><p>‘It was both enlightening and entertaining,’ Kevin says, a teasing edge to his voice. ‘I particularly enjoyed the section on ‘The Imperfect Enjoyment’.’</p><p>They keep chatting as Charles rolls out the dough and cuts it into neat strips.</p><p>‘That is <em>dope</em>,’ Jake says, suddenly at his shoulder. ‘You’re like, my Italian great-grandma or something.’</p><p>‘Thanks!’ Charles tries not to beam too much.</p><p>They keep chatting until Jake leaves to go to the bathroom, and suddenly everyone falls silent. The instant he’s out of earshot, Rosa rounds on Charles. ‘What the fuck are you doing here with Jake Peralta?’</p><p>‘He’s my date.’ Charles can’t help sounding a little smug.</p><p>‘How did you meet him?’ Debbie says. ‘Does he like ice cream? What am I saying, everyone likes ice cream. Do you think he’d want to go out for ice cream?’</p><p>‘How have I seen you every day and you haven’t told me you’re dating the guy from…’ Amy grimaces. ‘Game of Thrones? It’s gotta be Game of Thrones, right?’</p><p>‘<em>What</em> is going on?’ Kevin says.</p><p>Rosa folds her arms. ‘Charles is boning a famous actor.’</p><p>‘Has he ever appeared in Hamlet?’ Raymond says.</p><p>‘Uh, he’s done some Shakespeare at some point,’ Charles says. He brushes his hands together, which does little to get rid of the flour covering them. ‘And I’m not boning him.’</p><p>‘No actor can be considered famous until they have portrayed Hamlet,’ Raymond says, like it’s obvious.</p><p>Kevin nods. ‘Agreed.’</p><p>‘Why the hell aren’t you boning him?’ Rosa says. ‘I’d bone him.’</p><p>‘Can we please stop saying <em>bone</em>?’ Amy says.</p><p>‘And interfering in my personal life?’ Charles adds.</p><p>‘But you’re normally so open about it,’ Debbie says. ‘And I want to know what Jake’s like in bed!’</p><p>She’s right that Charles is normally happy to talk about his relationships – too happy, according to Eleanor. And he’d actually love to go out for brunch with Amy and Debbie – and maybe Rosa if they bribed her with bellinis – and talk through every interaction he’s had with Jake. The aborted date, Jake’s embarrassment and distraction, the subsequent weeks of texts and book reviews. He needs second opinions.</p><p>But also, Jake’s life is entirely different from that of anyone Charles has dated, or almost dated, or seriously thought about dating. He’s not sure if there’s a different protocol he should be following. And Jake might be dating Sophia. He probably is. So there’s probably no point going over everything that’s happened.</p><p>‘Me and Jake are just friends,’ Charles decides, and of course that’s the moment Jake walks back in.</p><p>It’s awkward for a moment, but the group recovers quickly. Raymond tells a long-winded anecdote about his co-workers at city hall, and Amy and Kevin set the table, and Rosa and Jake get their hands on Amy’s phone and play a truly horrifying collection of rap by white people and heavy metal. The pasta bubbles away until it’s perfectly al dente, and Charles drains it and tips it back into the pan to mix with his homemade pesto. It’s nothing much – it’s basically the same thing he’s been cooking for Amy and Rosa since they were at college. But with the heaps of grated parmesan and toasted pine nuts, with candles flickering on the table, with glasses of good wine, it feels special.</p><p>Charles keeps glancing at Jake across the table and trying not to think about what he said and whether Jake heard. He must have heard, right? Well, they <em>are</em> just friends. They haven’t even kissed. Charles isn’t falling in love with Jake, not even a little bit, he hasn’t even <em>thought</em> about their wedding and how lovely Jake will look in his suit and where all of his famous Hollywood friends will go in the seating plan. It hasn’t even crossed his mind.</p><p> </p><p>Raymond and Kevin are the first to leave, and everyone else takes that as their cue to get drunk.</p><p>‘The secret is –’ Charles says, and pauses to take a sip of wine. They’ve resorted to the bottle he brought. ‘The secret is – you have to <em>know</em> your oven. You need an intimate knowledge of it. That’s how you get the bake time perfect.’</p><p>Amy has ended up on Rosa’s lap somehow, an arm slung around her shoulders. ‘An <em>intimate knowledge?</em> Where do you get these expressions from?’</p><p>Charles giggles. ‘I get them – I get them from being a very well-read man. Very arter – articulate.’</p><p>‘Everyone shut up,’ Rosa says. ‘Charles made perfect chocolate fondants and we will shower him in praise.’ She raises her glass, almost sloshing the red wine all over Amy. ‘To Charles!’</p><p>‘To Charles!’ comes the sloppy chorus.</p><p>‘Aww.’ Charles rubs his hands over his face. He feels bleary, ready to sleep, but glowing with warmth. ‘I love you guys.’</p><p>When they leave, Rosa puts her hand on Jake’s shoulder and says, very seriously, ‘I’m glad I met you.’</p><p>‘Same,’ Jake says. ‘You terrify me, but in a fun way.’</p><p>Rosa’s face softens the way it only can when she’s drunk. ‘Thank you.’ She punches Charles on the arm, too hard. ‘Bye.’</p><p>Debbie hugs Charles and then Jake. ‘Will you follow me on Instagram?’</p><p>‘Duh-doy,’ Jake says. ‘Tag me in that pic if you post it.’</p><p>Debbie squeals and runs away. Amy gives Jake a formal handshake and says, ‘It was really nice to meet you.’</p><p>‘You too,’ Jake says. ‘Thanks for letting my crash your birthday party.’</p><p>And then Charles and Jake are back in the cold night air, alone again.</p><p>‘They loved you,’ Charles says. ‘I knew they would.’</p><p>Jake lights up. ‘They did?’</p><p>‘One hundred percent.’</p><p>‘Raymond and Kevin didn’t seem convinced.’</p><p>‘I’ll be sure to plead your case,’ Charles says.</p><p>‘Thank you,’ Jake says. ‘It was a great night.’ They turn the corner and he stops walking. ‘Uh, my mom’s place is this way.’</p><p>‘Oh.’ Charles glances up the street. A couple of cars glide past. Because they’d walked to Amy’s together, and then left together, some part of Charles felt like they were going home together. ‘Well. I’ll see you soon?’</p><p>Jake points some finger guns at him. ‘Big time.’</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I thoroughly recommend both 'The Time Traveler's Wife' and 'Room' (the books) and also 'The Imperfect Enjoyment' if you want to sample a poet who I'm pretty sure was the Lonely Island of seventeenth century England.</p>
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